A Game of Deception
by Thestral-Rose12
Summary: This story happens post-Reichenbach. John s life has been lonely and boring since Sherlock s death. But when he starts getting mysterious letters from a person who calls himself The Raven, he gets caught in a web of lies and danger, where he plays an important role in Moriarty s final plan. All the characters (except one) belong to their respectable owners. Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**A Game of Deception**

"_All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage."_

_ Mycroft Holmes_

**Author´s note**

This is actually my first story, so please bear with me. I had this idea after I watched The Reichenbach Fall. I was so curious (I still am) to know how Sherlock survived. But I also found what would happen to John really interesting, and so came the idea of this story. I do not own the characters of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson or any other character that belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and these versions of the characters belong to Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. If there are any mistakes in my story, I apologize in advance.

**Chapter 1**

It was Christmas Eve and John sat in his chair, looking at the chair opposite him. Mrs. Hudson had convinced him to decorate the apartment so now the brightly coloured lights hung in the windows and a small Christmas tree stood in the corner. Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen, cooking something for them. When the dinner was ready, they both sat in the kitchen and felt the emptiness in the apartment without Sherlock playing on his violin or making a deduction about what was hidden underneath the wrapping paper of his Christmas presents. It was the second Christmas since Sherlock´s death. In late March, it would be three years. John could still remember clearly their last conversation at the roof of St. Bart´s, his lifeless body lying on the grey pavement, his dark curls soaked in blood, his eyes staring emptily at him.

"Are you not hungry, dear?", Mrs. Hudson´s kind voice snapped John back into reality. He said quickly: "Erm, sorry. It´s delicious.". She smiled sympathetically at him and turned back to her plate. After dinner, John sat alone in the living room, staring into empty space. At around eleven, John decided to go to the cemetery.

John opened the slightly rusty gate and walked into the dark cemetery. The snow was falling lightly on the ground and covered the tombstones. The ground cracked underneath John´s steps as he walked over to a lonely, grey tombstone. John knelt down in front of the stone and brushed the snow off the letters: _Sherlock Holmes. _For a while, he just sat there. Why you, he thought, why you of all people? John heard a noise behind him and turned quickly around. Molly Hooper froze in her steps and smiled awkwardly.

"Oh! I´m sorry, I was over at your place but you weren´t there. Then Mrs. Hudson told me that you had gone to the cemetery and... well, here you are.", she said. John stood up and hugged her. She wore a black coat over her dress and winter boots, her light brown hair hung loose down her back and she held a bouquet of red roses in her hands. She walked over to Sherlock´s grave and placed the roses carefully in front of it. John could see that she was desperately trying to stop the tears from running from her green eyes. He had known about Molly´s feelings for Sherlock, though it seemed that Sherlock himself hadn´t known about them. He walked over to her and put his arm around her. There they stood until Molly released herself and started to walk away. She turned around and said: "Merry Christmas, John.". He gave her a kind smile.

"Merry Christmas, Molly.". She walked away and John stood before Sherlock´s grave for a while longer. The sound of the rusty gate closing echoed through the cemetery. John took one last look at his friend´s grave.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock.", he whispered before he swiftly turned around and began walking away, not even noticing the dark figure that hid in the shadows and watched his every movement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

John stepped out of the medical centre and onto the busy street. Sarah had got him the job and he had been working there for almost a year. He had to have something, anything to do and he needed the money.

He walked out from the freezing cold and bitter January weather and into 221B Baker Street and upstairs into his apartment. He took off his jacket and made himself a cup of tea. While he sat in the living room and drank his tea, he noticed a red envelope on the bookshelf. He took it up and opened it. A black feather fell in his hand and he read a handwritten letter which followed.

_Enjoy your tea, John._

Confused, he placed the letter on the coffee table and continued drinking his tea. He was walking into the kitchen with the empty cup when he started feeling dizzy. He tried to walk it off but it just kept getting worse. He grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself and waited for the dizziness to fade. He couldn´t see anything and he felt his mouth and throat turning dry and he found it difficult to breathe. Cold drops of sweat formed on his forehead and he lost all power in his body. He dropped the empty teacup and it shattered into a thousand pieces. John felt himself falling on the cold kitchen floor.

"Sherlock..." was the only thing he managed to mutter before he fell into unconsciousness.

John woke up to the sound of a heart monitor. He was in a hospital. He opened his eyes and saw a group of people standing around his hospital bed. A doctor stood in a lab coat and lit a small light in his eyes.

"Pupils are normal. You´re a lucky man, John. A matter of minutes and you wouldn´t be alive." he said as he gave him a thoughtful smile. Mrs. Hudson sobbed and hugged John.

"Don´t you frighten me like that, John Watson." she said. John looked around. He noticed that everyone looked quite cautiously at him. Lestrade sat on a nearby chair, smiling awkwardly and Molly sat on another chair on the other side.

"What happened? Is something wrong?" asked John as soon as the doctor left the room. They all looked at each other.

"Erm, John," began Molly, "the doctors told us that they found a large amount of morphine in your blood.". John sighed wearily.

"You think that I was trying to kill myself." he said. They all looked at each other.

"John, I know that it´s been hard for you since Sherlock died. But..." began Lestrade but John cut him off.

"No! I´m not trying to kill myself." he said loudly. Mrs. Hudson stroked his cheek soothingly and said:

"It´s all right, John. There is nothing to be ashamed of. We will just get you some help and..."

"Oh, I don´t think he will be needing that sort of help." a silky voice interrupted Mrs. Hudson. They all turned around. Mycroft Holmes stood in the doorway, dressed in a black suit and carrying a black umbrella and a briefcase. John hadn´t seen him since Sherlock´s funeral but he hadn´t changed a bit.

"Could you give us a moment alone, please?" said John coldly.

They all nodded and stepped outside. Molly closed the door behind her and Mycroft sat down on a nearby chair.

"What do you want?" said John grimly. Mycroft sighed.

"I´m here to warn you, John." he said. "I´m afraid that someone is trying to kill you.". John stared at him.

"Who?" he asked.

"He calls himself The Raven. He´s an assassin who used to work for Moriarty." explained Mycroft.

"What makes you so sure that this man is trying to kill me?" asked John suspicious. Mycroft opened his briefcase and took out a plastic bag with a black feather.

"I assume that you found this in your apartment?" said Mycroft. John nodded slowly.

"I suggest that you be careful in who you trust, John." said Mycroft and walked towards the door.

"Wait." shouted John after him. Mycroft stopped in the open doorway and looked at him.

"Why are you telling me this? We haven´t spoken in two years." he asked. The tall man frowned and didn´t answer right away.

"He told me to keep an eye on you." he said at last and closed the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

John sat by the kitchen table, drinking a glass of water and alone with his thoughts. He put two pills into his mouth and gulped down the water. It was now two months since the incident with the tea had happened and he had been having severe headaches since then. He kept telling himself that it was just from stress but Mrs. Hudson was worried. She was constantly telling him to go see a doctor. That damn Mrs. Hudson, he thought, couldn´t she see that he was thinking of other things? He had decided to take a break from work for a while and he had been trying to fish out some information from Mycroft about this Raven but he knew almost nothing of him. That idiot Mycroft, always so slow at figuring things out. If Sherlock were here... but that was exactly the point. Mycroft needed Sherlock. _John _needed Sherlock. But Sherlock was dead. Dead. And there was absolutely nothing that could bring him back. John´s feelings flickered from sadness to bitter anger. Why Sherlock? Why did he have to leave him? How could he do this to him? John threw his glass of water at the wall, realising at the same moment that Mrs. Hudson stood there, merely centimetres away from the spot where the glass had hit the wall. She yelped and stared at John, terrified. He walked over to her and hugged her. She buried her face in his shirt and started crying.

"I´m so sorry." said John ashamed of himself.

"Do you really think that this hasn´t been difficult for me, too? I also cared for him." said Mrs. Hudson between the sobs. She loosened her grip on him so that she could look him in the eye.

"John, you need help." she said. John looked at her.

"Yes." he said.

John had decided not to go back to his old therapist. He sat opposite a man in his early thirties and had dark brown hair and blue eyes.

"Hello, John. I´m Stephen Mason." said the man politely.

"Erm, yes. I know." answered John. Stephen Mason smiled at him.

"Yes, of course. Now, tell me why you´re here." he said and was ready with a notepad and a pen. John was resistant to speak, he didn´t want to through this yet again.

"You don´t have to be ashamed, John. I´m here to help you, not to criticize you." said Stephen.

"Erm, I was an army doctor and I was shipped home from Afghanistan about five years ago." began John hesitantly. Stephen looked at him.

"But that´s not why you´re here." he said. John looked at him and chuckled a little bit.

"You´re good." he said. Stephen shrugged his shoulders lightly. The tiny smile on John´s lips disappeared and was replaced by a look filled with suppressed emotions. It was the look of a man who had seen too much, lost too many.

"About two years ago, my friend died." said John.

"And how did he die?" asked Stephen.

"He killed himself. Jumped off the roof of St. Bart´s hospital.". Stephen wrote something down in his notepad.

"And what happened after that? " he asked.

"I was sad. For a long time. And angry. I still am." said John

"Why are you angry?" asked Stephen. John almost laughed at the question.

"Have you ever lost someone close to you, Mr. Mason?" he asked.

"Yes, I have."

"Then you would know why I am angry." said John. Stephen looked at him, waiting for him to answer the question. John sighed in surrender.

"Well, I´m mad at the man who was responsible for his death. I´m mad at my friend. But I think I´m maddest at myself." he said. Stephen wrote all of this down in his notepad.

"Why are you so mad at yourself?" he asked. John took a shaky breath before he spoke.

"Because I could have done something. I should have done something to help him.". His voice was beginning to shake. He hadn´t spoken about Sherlock´s death in two years.

"It´s all right, John." said Stephen. "What happened?". John looked down and felt the lump forming in his throat.

"People had been spreading lies about him. Horrible lies. And one day, I was going to meet him at St. Bart´s and... I saw him standing on the roof. I was talking to him on the phone and I knew immediately that he was going to jump. He told me that those lies about had been true and then he... I saw him jump. I ran over to him. He didn´t have a pulse…". John couldn´t say anything more. Stephen looked blankly at him.

"It was Sherlock Holmes, wasn´t it? Your friend?" he asked. John nodded.

"I remember when that happened. I read about it in the papers. It sounds that you two were very close." said Stephen. "I know it´s difficult to lose someone so close to you. But you need to remember something, John: you´re not alone."

John didn´t answer but looked at him gratefully. Stephen looked at his watch and stood up.

"Well, I´m afraid that the appointment is over. I´ll see you again next week." he said as John stood up and walked with him towards the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Mason." he said. Stephen smiled at him and John walked outside. John felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his chest. He took a cab home to Baker Street. The raindrops fell heavily on the pavement as John rushed inside his house. He walked upstairs and into his living room. Just as he opened the door, he saw a woman standing in the middle of the room. She quickly turned around and looked at John. He stared at the woman who was wearing a stunning black dress and a matching pair of high heels. John couldn´t believe it. Irene Adler gave him a flirty smile.

"Hello, Doctor Watson." she said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

John sat by the kitchen table and ate his breakfast. Irene walked into the room and sat down opposite him, wearing a bathrobe.

"Is that my bathrobe?" asked John.

"I´m sorry. Do you want me to take it off?" she replied.

"No, it´s fine." he said annoyed. A long silence followed.

"So you´re alive... yet again." said John. Irene laughed at little and nodded.

"Yes, I suppose I am." she said.

"What do you want?" asked John. Irene´s smile faded and she placed her elbows on the table.

"I believe that you´ve been looking for some information about The Raven, is that true?" she asked.

"Yes, do you know anything?" said John excited. Irene stood up and said: "Get dressed. We need to see someone." John looked at her confused.

"But I..." he began.

"Now." said Irene without even looking at him. John looked after her and then quickly went to get dressed.

Irene and John stepped out of the cab which had stopped outside Trafalgar Square and walked towards Nelson´s column. Irene had been careful enough to hide her face so that no one could see it. Under one of the lions at the base, a young woman sat with her backpack and read a book. She looked up when they walked up to her.

"Did you find it?" said Irene, quietly enough for the people around not to hear. The young woman nodded so that her dark brown hair, tied in a ponytail, bounced.

"Great. Come on." said Irene and the two women walked away from the square, followed by a confused John. They walked into a small café and sat down in a tight corner.

"So?" asked Irene enthusiastically. The young woman opened her backpack and took out a file. She handed it to John who reluctantly took it. He opened the thick file and read it.

"Sebastian Moran. Used to be Moriarty´s pet. After he died, he took his place." said the woman.

"Where did you get this?" asked John suspicious.

"I have my ways." she replied and grinned. John put the file down and looked at her.

"So, you´re working for her?" he asked and nodded towards Irene.

"Emily here has been very helpful with many projects." said Irene. John looked back at the file and noticed something.

"Aren´t there any photos of him?" asked John.

"Unfortunately, no one has managed to take a photo of him. The British government believes that he´s using a false identity." explained Emily as she stood up from the small chair she had been sitting on.

"I need to go and run some errands." she said. "Goodbye, Doctor Watson. I´ll be seeing you very soon."

She winked at John and walked out of the café, leaving him and Irene alone. An long silence followed.

"What do I do now?" asked John at last. Irene shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess you just try to get killed." she said. John wondered if Sherlock had been able to help him, if he had been able to find out who Sebastian Moran was. He looked at Irene.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked.

"I owe a favour to someone." replied Irene.

John stepped inside 221B Baker Street and walked up the stairs. He noticed a red envelope hanging on the door. He opened it and ignored the black feather which fell on the floor.

This time, it wasn´t a letter. It was a photograph of... Sherlock, covered in blood, lying on the grey pavement in front of St. Bart´s. John´s hands shook uncontrollably as he turned the photograph over. On the back, someone had written:

_Happy three years, John._

John stared at the photograph. He hadn´t realised what day it was. He ripped the photograph into tiny pieces and opened the door to his living room. He froze in his steps when he saw the state of the room. All the furniture had been pushed aside and photos hung all over the walls. Photos of Sherlock´s lifeless body lying on the ground. Photos of his dark curls, covered in blood. Photos of his stinging eyes staring emptily at John.

On the walls, a great number of red envelopes every photograph and on every envelope stood the same words and on the mirror, big letters formed the words:

_Happy three years, John._

John stared into his apartment as the grief and the anger took over his mind. A whispering voice chimed in his head. John held his hands over his head, trying to make the voice go away. Finally, he couldn´t take it anymore. He rushed over to the first wall that he saw and ripped the photographs down. He ripped down every single photo and every single red envelope that he saw.

Then, he turned to the mirror. He grabbed the first thing that he could find and he threw it at the mirror. It shattered into a thousand pieces. John sat down on the floor, feeling exhausted and defeated. He began to cry hysterically. The Raven was winning. _Moriarty _was winning.

Where was Sherlock when you needed him the most?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"How have you been this week?" Stephen asked. John sat opposite him in the usual chair.

"Fine. Good." John lied. He hadn´t told Mr. Mason about the letters. John was still a bit startled by the photos. Three years? Had it really been that long?

"But...?" Stephen asked. He obviously knew that John was hiding something. John hesitated.

"But... it´s been three years since... my friend died."

Stephen wrote everything down in his notepad.

"And how are you handling that?" he asked.

"How do you think?" John replied harshly. Then he looked apologetically at him.

"I´m sorry. I didn´t mean to..." he began but Stephen interrupted him.

"It´s fine. We all say things that we regret, right?" he said. John looked at him and suddenly remembered what he had said to Sherlock during their last face-to-face conversation at St. Bart´s.

A text message alert disturbed John´s thoughts. He looked apologetically at Stephen as he took his mobile phone out of his pocket and read the message.

_Sebastian Moran._

_xxx_

With the short message, there was a photo. John couldn´t help but gasp when he saw the photo of a man with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He looked up from the man on the photo and looked at the same man sitting opposite him and smiling kindly. No, it couldn´t be him.

"Is everything all right?" asked Stephen. John was so shocked that he didn´t answer at first. When he realised that he was still staring at him, he quickly said:

"Erm, I actually have to go. I´m sorry."

He stood up and grabbed his jacket. Before Stephen could even reply, John had walked out of the room. He rushed down the stairs and outside. He picked up his phone and dialled his own home number.

"Hello?" sounded Irene´s voice at the other end, just as John had suspected.

"Did you send that message to me?" asked John.

"No, I didn´t." said Irene, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Emily did. She´s on her way to pick you up. Just wait outside, she´ll explain everything."

Irene hung up and left John alone and confused. A short while later, a black car appeared from around the corner and stopped in front of John. He walked over to it and stepped into the car. He sat beside Emily, who was busy writing a text on her phone as the car drove off.

"What was that all about?" asked John. Emily looked up from her phone and at John.

"I was able to identify Moran, obviously." she explained. "Have you seen him before?"

John nodded slowly.

"Yes, he´s my psychiatrist. I was with him when I got the message." he said. Emily looked at him for a while before she suddenly said to the driver: "Take us to New Scotland Yard."

John and Emily walked through the New Scotland Yard headquarters on their way to Lestrade´s office. Even though John hadn´t been in this house in three years, he could still know the way as if it were the back of his hand. They walked past people sitting by their desks and they were interrupted by the last persons he wanted to run into.

"What are you doing here?" asked Sergeant Donovan surprised. "I haven´t seen you since the freak... Sherlock died."

"I need to talk to Lestrade. It´s urgent." answered John, choosing to ignore Donovan´s last remark. Donovan looked at Anderson who stood beside her. He shrugged his shoulders and said: "All right. Come on."

They escorted John and Emily over to Lestrade´s office. Donovan knocked on the closed door and was answered by a quick: "Come in!"

Donovan slightly opened the door and snuck her head in.

"Sir, John Watson wants to talk to you." she said. A short silence followed before John could hear Lestrade saying: "Oh, erm… let him in."

Donovan nodded and opened the door for John and Emily to enter. Lestrade sat by his desk and looked exhausted. Infinite piles of papers lay on the desk and a large amount of plastic coffee cups lay in the trash. Lestrade looked at John and smiled wearily.

"Hello, John. Good to see you. Sit down." he said and pointed at the two chairs opposite him. John and Emily sat down as Lestrade tried to tidy the desk.

"What do you need, John?" he asked.

"Have you heard of a criminal who is named Sebastian Moran?" said John. Lestrade nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, the police have been looking for him for a while. Do you know anything?"

John looked at Emily who took out a folded file and handed it to Lestrade. He opened the file and looked at the papers. There was a photo of Stephen and two sets of matching fingerprints which belonged to Stephen and Sebastian Moran.

"He calls himself Stephen Mason, his real name is Sebastian Moran." said Emily.

Lestrade looked at Emily for a while, a blend of confusion and disbelief in his eyes.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"I have my ways." replied Emily and grinned teasingly. Lestrade took a better look at the papers.

"I don´t believe it. He made a brand new identity. He has everything under the name of Stephen Mason: a birth certificate, a driver´s licence, a passport." he breathed. "Amazing."

"Well, now you have the proof and his true identity. You just have to decide what to do with them." said Emily impatiently and stood up.

"Oh, erm, thank you. I´ll look into this, then." said Lestrade as Emily and John walked over to the door. They walked outside and into the black car which had been waiting for them.

"How did you find out?" asked John after a while. Emily refused to look at him.

"It´s from the British government." she said at last. John stared at her in disbelief.

"You stole classified information from the British government?" he asked.

"Don´t you dare tell anyone." was all that Emily answered. A long silence followed after that. At last, the car stopped outside 221B Baker Street. They stepped outside and into John´s house. In the living room, there sat Irene Adler and waited for them. When they walked inside, she jumped up and walked over to them.

"How did it go?" she asked enthusiastically.

"We gave the file over to Lestrade." replied Emily and sat down on the sofa. John sat down in his chair but his mind was racing. He was curious. He wanted to know how Emily had stolen information from the British government. He wanted to know what Stephen had to do with Moriarty.

"What happens now?" asked John after a long silence.

"We wait." answered Irene.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

About two weeks after John and Emily´s visit to Lestrade, it was finally official.

_Sebastian Moran Captured!_

_One of the most wanted criminals in Britain, Sebastian Moran, is now behind bars. New Scotland Yard arrested him about two weeks ago, but he has been hiding under the name of Stephen Mason for three years. His case has been on trial for a week and this morning, the judge of The Crown Court sentenced him to 50 years in a highly secured prison. _

John sat in the kitchen and read the newspaper. He sighed in relief when he had finished reading the article. It was over. Sebastian Moran was finally in prison. The ringing of the phone interrupted his thoughts. He took up the phone.

"Hello?" answered John.

"Hey, it´s me." said Lestrade. He sounded tired and annoyed.

"Is everything all right?" asked John cautiously.

"I just got a call from the prison where Moran is. They say that he wants to talk to you." said Lestrade. John hesitated.

"How do I get there?" he said at last, regretting his decision a bit.

"I´ll come over and drive you there." replied Lestrade.

John hung up and rushed to get his jacket. At that moment, Irene Adler came into the living room.

"What´s going on?" she asked.

"It´s Lestrade. Moran wants to talk to me." said John as he rushed down the stairs.

John looked outside the window as Lestrade drove them further away from bustling London. Soon, the buildings became fewer and fewer until there was nothing left but the vast plains of the English countryside. The grass was green and the sun shone brightly on the cloudless sky, but John´s thoughts were dark.

"So, how is this going to work?" asked John.

"The man I talked to said that I couldn´t come with you. But I think there´ll be a guard with you. And Moran will be in his cell, so he can´t hurt you. Just remember not to be too close to the bars." answered Lestrade.

John walked down a long hallway, with two guards and Lestrade walking behind him. Prisoners stood inside their cells, carved into the walls and closed with bars. John tried to ignore the whistles that they gave him or the hands which snuck out between the bars and tried to reach him. The prison guards quieted them and kept on walking. They turned to the right at the end of the hallway and walked down another one. The prisoners looked up at John and gave him smiles which made him uncomfortable.

The guards came to a halt in front of the cell at the end of the row of barred walls. Sebastian Moran looked up from his book and put it down. He crossed his legs and smiled to John.

"Hello, gentlemen." he said.

"You have five minutes." replied one of the guards. Moran´s sly smile faded.

"I want to speak to him alone. Without you two." he said in a low, deep voice. An intense silence followed. The two guards looked at each other and then at John.

"It´s fine. You can go." said John reluctantly. The guards hesitantly left and closed the door to the hallway behind them. John sat down on a chair which had been acquired for him. He was careful not to show Moran any signs of anxiety or fear.

"What do you want?" he asked. Sebastian shrugged his shoulders.

"I just wanted to see you."

John looked at him annoyed.

"That´s it? That´s the reason I came here?" he said in disbelief.

"I haven´t seen you in a while." replied Sebastian.

"Well, now you have." snapped John back at him and stood up. He was beginning to walk away when Sebastian shouted after him: "Where are you going?"

"Home. If you don´t have anything important to say to me, I might as well leave." replied John without looking back.

"No, stop!" shouted Sebastian after him. John stopped but didn´t turn around. "I do have something to tell you."

John slightly shook his head and turned around. He walked over to the cell and stood in front of it. Sebastian had stood up from the chair and now stood up against the bars.

"Well, what is it?" he asked when Sebastian didn´t say anything.

"Remember the first time when we met?" he asked calmly. John nodded slowly. "Remember when you told me about Sherlock Holmes? Your friend who killed himself?" continued Sebastian. John nodded slowly.

"He was innocent. Moriarty made the whole thing up." said Sebastian.

"How do you know that?" asked John.

"Sherlock´s phone." said Sebastian without really answering John´s question. "A woman named Molly Hooper is keeping the phone."

John looked at Sebastian in shock and disgust. He stood up from the chair and walked over to the bars.

"Look. I don´t know what sort of twisted plan you have in mind, but keep my friends out of it." he said in a low voice. Sebastian laughed a cold laugh.

"Oh, my dear John. We both know that I can´t do that."

John heard a loud clank and a pair of footsteps hurrying towards him.

"Time´s up." said one of the guards. Sebastian nodded towards John and said: "I suggest that you have a little conversation with Miss Hooper."

John didn´t reply as the guards escorted him outside. Lestrade waited for him outside.

"How did it go?" he asked when John joined him.

"All right." answered John as they stepped into Lestrade´s car. "Erm, you know Molly Hooper, don´t you?"

"Yeah, I´ve met her several times. Why?" said Lestrade as they drove away from the prison. John glanced at his watch. Half past five, she would probably still be working three hours from now.

"Could you maybe drop me off at St. Bart´s when we get back?" he asked. "I need to talk to her."


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: This chapter contains extremely graphic violence!**

**Chapter 7**

Molly jumped up when John opened the door to the morgue.

"Oh! It´s just you, John." she said startled. "Is everything all right?"

John didn´t answer and walked further into the morgue.

"What´s wrong?" asked Molly, concerned. John looked accusingly at her.

"There´s something you´re not telling me, isn´t there?" he asked and took a few steps towards her. Molly looked as if she had been slapped across the face. She tried to smile it off.

"What makes you think that?" she asked.

"Stop lying to me." said John angrily. Molly´s smile faded when she saw the look on John´s face.

"Sherlock´s phone was never found. Did you know that?" he said bitterly. Molly looked away and refused to look at John.

"You took it, didn´t you?" asked John and all doubt disappeared. At last, Molly looked up with tears in her eyes.

"John, I´m so sorry." she said. "He told me to take it."

John looked at Molly in confusion until he suddenly realised something.

"You knew that he was going to die." he said shocked. Molly didn´t answer but she walked over to her purse and searched it. After a while, she took out a black mobile phone and walked over to John. She handed it to him.

"He wanted me to give it to you when I thought the time was right."

John hesitantly took it and looked fondly at it.

"Are you all right?" asked Molly. John nodded quickly.

"Yeah, I´m fine. It´s just been a long day." he said. Molly didn´t say anything.

"Thank you, Molly." said John as he stood up. Molly smiled to him and he walked outside. Lestrade waited outside in his car.

"Well, did you get what you needed?" he asked as he drove around London.

"Yeah, I did." answered John, still holding Sherlock´s phone.

The security guard sat alone in a room with his plastic coffee cup and looked at the ocean of small television screens which hung on the wall. Nothing moved, except for a few prison guards on their night shift marching up and down the hallways. The guard took a drink of the coffee and frowned at the awful taste.

Suddenly, he noticed that one of the screens had turned black. Then another one. The security guard stared in astonishment as all the television screens shut down, one by one.

"What the hell?" he muttered. At the same moment, he felt something cold and sharp against his throat.

"Where is Sebastian Moran?" said a female voice behind him. When the guard didn´t answer right away, he felt the cold blade sink slightly deeper into his neck. He yelped.

"He´s in Wing B!" he said loudly. He felt the knife being taken away from his throat and considered himself safe. He turned around in his chair just in time to see a young woman in a black coat slashing a knife at him and cutting his throat.

The young woman took a set of keys and walked out of the room and into a long hallway. She looked up at the ceiling and saw what she was looking for, an air vent. She pulled a chair up against the wall and climbed up on it. She looked around to see if anyone was near, then she pushed upwards onto the large air vent cover. A loud clank was heard and the cover loosened. She pushed the cover aside and pulled herself up into the dark and narrow air vent. When she had gotten into the air vent, she pulled the cover over the hole and took out a torch and a map of the prison´s air ventilation system. She went to the left and crawled through the narrow air vent.

Sebastian Moran lay on his bed, unable to sleep. His insomnia had been getting worse. He had always considered sleep to be a useless waste of time, anyway. Suddenly, he heard a loud metal clank. He stood up and walked over to the bars of his cell to see what was happening in the hallway. He didn´t see anything but heard a guard shouting and then the sounds of someone struggling. Then, all of a sudden, silence. Sebastian tried the best he could to see what was going on. Suddenly, he heard a weak sound of a door being locked and, shortly afterward, a pair of footsteps walking towards his cell. He chuckled when he saw the person approaching him.

"Ah, my dear Emily." he said as the young woman stopped in front of his cell, her black coat covered in blood. "Having fun, are we?"

Emily smiled a cold smile and said: "Very much so."

She walked closer towards the bars and gave Sebastian a look which made him shiver.

"You told Doctor Watson about the phone, didn´t you?" she asked.

"So what if I did?" asked Sebastian. Emily gave out a loud, sharp laugh which sent shivers down Sebastian´s spine.

"So what if you did?" she said, still laughing.

Suddenly, Emily grabbed the back of Sebastian´s neck and pulled him closer to her.

"Because of what you did, he now knows about that blasted phone." she hissed in his ear, no humour was in her voice. "Do you know what happens if he finds it? Do you know what happens if he finds out what´s happened to Sherlock Holmes? The game will be over. We won´t be able to play anymore."

She pulled out a knife from her pocket and thrust it against Sebastian´s throat.

"Do you know what I do to people who don´t play by my rules?" she whispered. Sebastian already knew the answer to that question. He tried to pull himself away from her but she was surprisingly strong. Emily dug her fingernails into Sebastian´s skin on the back of his neck. He didn´t dare to shout for help. The knife was now dangerously close to his windpipe.

"Consider your duties fulfilled, Mr. Moran." whispered Emily just before she thrust the point of the knife deep into Sebastian´s windpipe and pulled upwards. His throat burst and blood splattered everywhere. She pulled the knife out and stabbed him repeatedly in his handsome face. With every stab, his skin became looser until nothing was left of Sebastian Moran´s face but the raw muscles and he sank down to the floor, dead. Emily put the knife into her pocket and rushed towards the body which lay on the floor on the hallway. Quickly, she undressed the dead prison guard and put on his uniform over her own, bloody clothes. Finally, she pulled her hair up and hid it underneath a hat. She began walking towards the door when she heard a voice from one of the cells.

"Hey! Aren´t you forgetting something?" asked one of the prisoners. The others were looking at Emily from their cells.

"Of course. How silly of me." she said and threw a plastic bag full of cigarette packs to one of the prisoners. "Pass them on."

Emily walked through the door and down a hallway. Passing guards merely nodded towards her but no one spoke to her until she was near the front door.

"Going home?" asked a security guard.

"Yeah, my shift´s over." said Emily in the deepest voice she could speak.

"Have a nice night."

"You too." replied Emily as she calmly walked out of the front door and inhaled the fresh air.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

John Watson yawned as he read the morning paper. He took a sip of his tea but nearly choked when he saw the headline. He coughed violently and then took a closer look at the article.

_Murder at Full Sutton Prison!_

_Two guards and one prisoner were brutally murdered in Full Sutton Prison last night. The murdered prisoner is Sebastian Moran, a highly dangerous criminal who was sentenced to fifty years of prison for multiple assassinations last Friday. By their families´ wishes, the other victims shall remain anonymous. _"_We believe that the murderer got in through the prison´s air ventilation system." says Detective Inspector Lestrade. "We do not have a suspect yet, but we advise people to be extremely cautious. The murderer is very likely to be armed and highly dangerous."_

John rushed into the living room where his phone was and dialled Lestrade´s number.

"Hello?" answered Lestrade. He sounded busy.

"I´m sorry. Is this a bad time?" said John.

"No, no. It´s all right. Have you read the paper?" asked Lestrade.

"Yeah, I just read about it. Have you found anything?"

"I´m actually not allowed to talk about it, sorry." replied Lestrade. He sounded uneasy.

"But maybe I can help." said John quickly. Suddenly, he remembered Sherlock´s phone. "I think I know why Moran was murdered."

Lestrade sighed before he said: "All right. You can come and see me in my office at around four, okay?"

John agreed to that and hung up. He then rushed to his bedroom where Sherlock´s phone lay on the nightstand. John sat down on his bed and turned on the phone. It was password protected. John thought for a while before he got an idea. He hesitantly typed in his own name and was surprised to see the phone unlock. He searched through the phone to look for a clue, a photograph, anything. He knew that Sherlock must have had a good reason to let Molly keep this, to let her give it to him.

At last, he clicked at the only recording on the phone. He heard the painfully familiar voice talking through the phone. He placed the phone to his ear so that he could hear Sherlock´s words clearer. Then, he heard another voice, the voice of the man who John loathed more than anything. He listened closely at the two of the cleverest men that he had ever met, at what they were saying. The more he listened, the clearer everything became. Then, when he heard Sherlock saying his name on the phone, he was a little astonished. He had never heard that much terror in Sherlock´s voice.

Suddenly, a gunshot was heard and no sound was heard except for Sherlock´s heavy breathing. Then, the phone turned silent. For a while, John sat on the floor by his bed with the phone still positioned at his left ear. He slowly lowered it and tried to digest the new information. Sherlock was innocent. It was all a part of Moriarty´s scheme all along. And Sherlock had saved John, he really had cared for him.

John stormed into Lestrade´s office and Lestrade jerked his head up from the pile of papers where he had been resting. He had been asleep.

"John, is it four o´clock already?" he said wearily.

"No, not yet. But I´m afraid that this can´t wait." said John and sat down on a chair opposite him.

"Well, what was it that you needed to tell me?"

John took Sherlock´s phone out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. Lestrade looked at it confused.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It´s Moriarty´s confession." answered John.

"Oh my god." whispered Lestrade and stared at the mobile phone which lay on his desk. "He actually was telling the truth."

"I think that this is why Moran was murdered." said John. "He tells me about the phone and then he´s found murdered the day after. You have to admit, there is definitely a connection."

Lestrade buried his face in his hands and gently rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, you´re probably right. I´ll look into it, then." he said as he stood up. "Thank you."

John nodded and stood up. He walked out of the room and out of the large building. He took a cab home to Baker Street. When he walked up the front steps, he noticed the broken lock. Slowly, he pushed at the splintered door, which opened with a low creak. He carefully stepped inside with his handgun ready underneath his jacket.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he shouted. When no reply came, he walked towards the door to Mrs. Hudson´s apartment. The lock had been broken and on the door hung a red envelope. Hesitantly, he took the envelope and opened it. Once again, a black feather fell down onto the floor but John ignored it and took out a photograph. Mrs. Hudson lay on the floor with her hands and feet tied and grey duct tape over her mouth. On the back of the photograph, there stood a short message:

_Come and play, John._

_Millennium Mills, Silvertown._

John stared at the photograph in shock, not knowing what to do. He took out his mobile phone and dialled Lestrade´s number. He didn´t answer.

"Damn it." exclaimed John. He picked up his phone again and hesitantly dialled another number.

"Hello?" a female voice answered cautiously.

"I need your help." said John.

"What happened?" asked the voice at the other end.

"The Raven took Mrs. Hudson. To the Millennium Mills and I need your help." he said.

"And why should I care?"

"Irene, please." he begged. A long silence followed. Suddenly, Irene gave out an exasperated groan and said:

"What do you need?"

John sighed in relief.

"Can you pick me up at Baker Street?" he asked.

"Sure." she replied, though she still sounded annoyed.

Fifteen minutes later, John sat in a black car with Irene on his way to Silvertown.

"You do know that this is suicide, don´t you?" said Irene after a while.

"Yes, I know." was all that John answered.

"Then why are you doing this?"

John looked at the woman sitting beside him.

"I lost Sherlock." he said after a while. "I can´t lose Mrs. Hudson, too."

Irene remained silent for the rest of the car ride. John glanced outside the window and looked at the bright lights of the city. When the car finally stopped outside the abandoned factory, John felt afraid for the first time in a long while.

"What are you going to do?" asked Irene. John shrugged his shoulders.

"I´ll try to get her out of here." he replied.

"You´re lucky if she´s still alive." she said.

"I _will_ get her out of here. Even if I won´t get out." said John and stepped out of the car. The car drove away and left him all alone. John walked slowly towards the large door of the deserted building as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon. The door opened with a loud creak and John stepped into the factory. He had a feeling that this would be the last time that he would see the sun.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: This chapter contains disturbing themes such as violence and torture!**

**Chapter 9**

John walked into a dark hall and walked up a large staircase. The floorboards creaked and cracked underneath his steps. When he had walked up to the second floor, he saw a divided hallway reaching further into the darkness. Rusty chains hung from what was left of the ceiling and green paint was beginning to peel off the rotting walls. John tried to walk as fast as he could while trying to find his way in the dark.

When he had searched the whole floor, his eyes had finally adjusted to the dark. He walked up the stairs and up to the third floor. The smell of decay hung like a cloud over the building. John turned to the right and tried to walk as carefully as he could since a large part of the floor had already rotted away.

After what felt like hours, he walked into a large room. Mrs. Hudson sat on a wooden chair near the window, with her hands and feet tied. John rushed over to her and knelt down before her. She looked as if she were asleep, or worse. He placed two fingers on her neck to check for a pulse. Much to his relief, he felt her pulse underneath his fingertips.

Gently, he ripped the grey duct tape off her mouth. She opened her eyes and gasped when she saw him.

"John! No. What are you doing here? You need to get out." she whispered between the sobs. He placed his hand over her mouth.

"Shh." he said kindly. "Are you hurt?"

Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

"I going to get you out of here." said John as he began to loosen her ropes.

"No, John. She´ll kill you." she whispered and began to cry again.

"She?" asked John and looked at her confused.

Suddenly, he felt someone grabbing his hair and thrusting his head against the wall. John felt as if his head were being split in half as his skull was slowly being crushed by the force of the concrete wall. His vision turned black and he fell unconscious on the floor.

Mrs. Hudson whimpered and looked at the young woman in front of her. She pulled out a roll of grey duct tape.

"No. Please." Whimpered Mrs. Hudson as the woman placed the tape over her mouth. The young woman looked at the old, crying woman in the chair in front of her. She didn´t say anything while she dragged John across the floor.

John woke up with searing pain at the back of his head. He groaned and looked around. He was in another room, a smaller room than the one he had found Mrs. Hudson in. His vision was a little blurry and he felt the blood running in streams down the side of his face. He felt that his hands and feet were tied to a hard chair. When his vision slowly began to improve, he saw a figure sitting in front of him. At last, he saw the young woman sitting on a chair opposite him. He couldn´t believe it.

"Emily." he exclaimed. "You´re the Raven?"

"Don´t look like it, do I?" said Emily and smiled a cruel smile.

"You´re the one who´s been sending me those letters." guessed John.

"The tea, the letters, the photos, everything."

"And Moran…" said John. Emily chuckled a bit.

"Ah, yes. Poor Sebastian was beginning to ruin all the fun." she explained. "Anyway, he was probably going to spoil the surprise for you."

"What surprise?" asked John.

"Well, it wouldn´t be a surprise if I told you." replied Emily and gave him a sickening grin.

John looked at her in disgust.

"You´re insane." he said. Emily chuckled.

"You know, that reminds me of someone who said those exact words. Not to me, of course." she said. John knew immediately whom she was referring to.

"Don´t talk about Sherlock!" he snapped.

"Does it still hurt, John?" said Emily menacingly. "I remember how damaged you looked when it happened."

"Don´t!" he pleaded. Emily stood up and walked over to John. She took out a roll of grey duct tape and placed the tape over his mouth. He tried to protest but she slapped him across the face. John flinched and he felt Emily´s cold hand grabbing his face.

"Are you going to behave, John?" she said as if she were talking to a small child. When John didn´t answer, she slapped him across the face again.

"Are you going to behave, John?" she repeated, just as quietly as before. John nodded weakly as Emily sat down on his lap. She whispered menacingly into his ear: "We´re going to play a little game, John. And remember, you are going to behave."

John didn´t know for how long he had been sitting on the hard, wooden chair and gone through all the pain. Emily´s knife tore his skin once again, deep enough to cause excruciating pain but yet not deep enough to kill him instantly. He shouted out in pain, muffled by the duct tape, as the knife went deep into him abdomen. The knife was going deeper than before. He panted when Emily took the knife out.

"Pathetic." she said. She spit on John while he sat there on the chair, defenceless, weak.

"Does it hurt, John? Does it hurt as much as it did in Afghanistan?" she asked mockingly. "Do you think it would hurt _him_ to see you in so much pain?"

Emily smiled when she saw the grief in John´s eyes. John struggled weakly in his chair, trying desperately to escape, even though he knew that it was hopeless. But he had had enough. He couldn´t bear the thought of all the pain that he had gone through. It was too much. He gave up and sat still, with his head hanging low and his eyes closed. He suddenly felt Emily pulling his head up and he flinched at the sudden pain when she ripped the duct tape off his mouth. He felt something cold and sharp against his abdomen.

He opened his eyes and saw Emily holding the knife against his stomach. With enough force and the right technique, it would be enough to kill him.

"Who would have thought that one person could cause so much pain?" said Emily. "Is it all worth it? Isn´t it best to just end it?"

John looked pleadingly at her and nodded slightly.

"Please." he whispered. Emily grinned. John closed his eyes and waited for the agony. Soon, it would all be over.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

A tall, dark haired man ran up the rotting stairs, desperately searching for his best friend.

"John!" he shouted as he ran up to the third floor. A divided hallway met his eyes and he looked around. He noticed a tiny trail of blood coming from the right.

"No." he muttered as he ran to the left and down the hallway. He followed the trail of blood which led to behind the door at the end of the dark hallway. He flung the door open and stormed into the room. Emily turned around and looked at him triumphantly. Sitting on a chair was John, his face as white as a sheet. John stared at the tall man in shock and disbelief.

"Sherlock…" he exclaimed. Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway and noticed the knife in Emily´s hands. Immediately, he realised what she had done and he felt the hate boiling up inside him. He slowly walked towards the smiling Emily.

"What did you do to him?" he said. Emily gave out a loud laugh.

"Oh, Sherlock. You know exactly what I´ve done to him. Besides, it´s nothing serious. I´m sorry you couldn´t be here to see him squirm, but I simply couldn´t wait." she said. "Now, if you´ll excuse me, I wasn´t quite finished with little Johnny over here." she continued as she ran her fingers through John´s hair. He flinched.

"Stop it." threatened Sherlock.

"Or what?" said Emily menacingly. "You do not scare me."

She bent down beside John´s chair. She ran her fingers across his hair and touched his face lightly, touching the warm, dark red fluid which ran in streams from the wound on his head. She licked her bloodied fingers.

"Stop it!" shouted Sherlock.

"No." replied Emily.

"Get away from him or I will kill you right here and now!" shouted Sherlock as he pulled up the handgun from his coat pocket and aimed it at Emily´s head. She looked up and laughed. She had already placed her knife on John´s throat. He gasped a bit when he felt the cold steel pressed against his windpipe.

"Drop the gun." said Emily, with a smile on her face.

Sherlock looked worriedly at John and saw the fear in his eyes. He put the gun on the floor and carefully kicked it away.

"Very good, Sherly." whispered Emily as she took the knife away from John´s throat. She stood up and picked up the gun. She aimed it at Sherlock´s chest.

"If you must kill someone, kill me then." said Sherlock in a quiet voice.

"Oh, beautiful! The Virgin sacrifices himself for his Pet." spits Emily out mockingly and grinned.

In the blink of an eye, she moved her aim from Sherlock to John and pulled the trigger.

"Oops!" she squealed

John saw Sherlock´s lips moving but he couldn´t hear what he was saying. He only felt the familiar, agonizing pain in his abdomen which spread throughout his body. He couldn´t breathe from the pain and the panic.

Suddenly, a loud voice was heard from a megaphone.

"It´s over, Emily! The building is surrounded! Release the hostages!" shouted the voice. Before Sherlock could do anything, Emily ran out of the room and down the hallway, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

In the staircase, she came to a halt. She glanced down the staircase and noticed a group of policemen beginning to walk up the staircase. She chuckled softly as she aimed the gun at the floor beneath her. She pulled the trigger and the bombs underneath the floorboards exploded, along with Emily and the whole staircase.

The policemen, who had gone inside the building, ran outside and over to Greg Lestrade.

"Sir, the staircase exploded. Possibly by the suspect." said one of the policemen startled.

"The state of the hostages?" asked Lestrade.

"Unknown, sir." replied the policeman. Lestrade placed his hand over his mouth.

"Fetch the fire department and paramedics. We need to get into that building." ordered Lestrade but froze in his steps as he witnessed northern wall of the old factory slowly crumble to pieces.

Meanwhile, Irene Adler stood underneath the shadow of a large brick building. She stared at the large chunks of rock falling to the ground. A single tear ran down her cheek as she turned away from the burning building and disappeared into the darkness.

Sherlock rushed over to John. He freed John´s hands and feet and helped him stand up. The soaring pain in his abdomen made John feel nauseous and he couldn´t breathe. His legs gave in when he tried to stand up but he felt a pair of hands catching him. He felt himself being laid down on the floor. He slowly opened his eyes and saw his best friend bending over him. He noticed something in Sherlock´s eyes that he had rarely seen before: terror.

"It´s hopeless." said John when he saw the look on Sherlock´s face. Sherlock shook his head swiftly.

"No. No." he said. "You´re going to be all right."

He unbuttoned John´s shirt to see the damage. His face turned pale when he saw the gaping wound on John´s abdomen and the infinite stream of fresh blood escaping it. The bullet had hit a vein. He quickly pressed his hands on John´s stomach in attempt to stop the bleeding.

"No. Don´t." said John as he took Sherlock´s hand. "I know a hopeless case when I see one. It´s all right."

John´s face was turning paler and paler.

"No, it´s not." replied Sherlock. "It´s not all right. You can´t just die."

John chuckled weakly.

"I´m only human, Sherlock. Of course I can die." he said as the tears ran down his cheek. He felt that he was growing weary and his eyelids were starting to feel heavier. He knew that it was almost over.

"I´m afraid." he admitted. Sherlock squeezed his hand.

"I´m here. Just stay with me, John." he said encouragingly.

"Yes, I´m here…" whispered John as his eyes began to close. Sherlock shook him.

"No, no. John, I need you to stay awake." he said. With great effort, John slightly opened his eyes.

"Sherlock…" he whispered. John´s eyes closed and his body turned numb in Sherlock´s arms. Sherlock stared in terror as he witnessed the life of his best friend, his only friend, slowly fade away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Sherlock sat on an uncomfortable chair in the bustling waiting room. Doctors and nurses ran back and forth, in and out of the emergency room. He looked around and looked at the people sitting around him, they were all so vulnerable. And now he was in the same condition as them. He hated it.

"Sherlock?" a shy voice snapped Sherlock back into reality. He looked up and saw Molly Hooper, whom he hadn´t seen in three years.

"I just heard about John. Have you heard anything yet?" she asked and sat down beside him. He shook his head.

"Don´t worry, Sherlock. He´s going to be fine." said Molly, trying to sound encouraging. Sherlock didn´t answer but his mind was racing as he stared at the door to the emergency room. He had gone into that old factory to save John. If John died, Sherlock would never be able to forgive himself. His thoughts were suddenly disturbed when a doctor walked into the room and towards Sherlock and Molly.

"John Watson?" he asked. Molly nodded.

"Is he...?" she asked.

"He´s alive, but barely. He lost a lot of blood, both from stabbing wounds and from a large vein near the liver that was ruptured from a gunshot wound, along with a punctured lung and a severe concussion. We managed to stop the bleeding in the abdomen and we placed a chest tube between his ribs. But his condition is still a bit uncertain, we don´t know if he needs surgery or not, so he´s in the Intensive Care Unit now."

"Oh, god." said Molly. "Can we see him?"

"He´s asleep now, but you can see him. Follow me." replied the doctor and escorted them upstairs. They followed him down a long corridor. It was much quieter there than in the waiting room. They stopped in front of a closed door.

"Just so you know, he probably doesn´t look very much like himself. We had to connect him to a respirator, but you don´t have to be alarmed." said the doctor kindly before he opened the door and walked with Sherlock and Molly into the room. There lay John underneath the white covers, with an oxygen mask over his mouth and tubes leading in and out of his body. He looked so pale and fragile that it seemed as if he weren´t alive. Sherlock sat down on a nearby chair and looked at John´s chest going up and down, just to make sure that he was breathing. Molly sat on the hospital bed.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked quietly. Sherlock shook his head.

"I´ll be outside if you need me." said Molly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. When she was gone, Sherlock sat there for a long while and just stared at John´s chest going up and down. Sherlock wanted him to wake up, so that he could tell him how sorry he was. But he couldn´t. Not in here.

Sherlock heard the door opening and turned around. Mycroft Holmes stood in the doorway and looked at his little brother.

"Hello, brother." said Mycroft. When Sherlock didn´t answer, he sighed and sat down at the foot of John´s bed. A long and an awkward silence followed.

"Are you ever going to tell me how you did it?" he asked after a while, unable to hide his curiosity.

"Should I trust that you keep it secret if I told you?" replied Sherlock coldly. Mycroft looked at his brother.

"I´m sorry, Sherlock." he said.

"What else did you tell Moriarty about me, Mycroft? Did you perhaps tell him everything about John or Mrs. Hudson, too?" asked Sherlock angrily, but still speaking in his quiet, deep voice.

"I did it to protect our country." replied Mycroft, with frustration in his voice. "He was the most dangerous man in the world and he wouldn´t talk unless I gave him what he wanted. What would you have done?"

Sherlock looked at his brother. He put his hand in his coat pocket and took out a small USB flash drive. He handed it to Mycroft, who looked bewildered at him.

"Every single person who has ever worked for James Moriarty is on this drive." explained Sherlock. Mycroft took it out of his hand. "Just a little something to help you protect our country." he added coldly.

Mycroft put the flash drive in his pocket and stood up. Without another word, he walked out of the room.

Sherlock didn´t leave John´s side for the rest of the day. He didn´t speak to anyone, he merely looked at John´s chest going up and down. Then, at around midnight, Sherlock heard the door being opened. He looked up and saw a person in dark clothes walk in. He grinned.

"Miss Adler, I presume." he said. Irene Adler took off the hood on her fur coat and sat down. She glanced at John as he lay hidden behind the tubes and the oxygen mask.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Punctured lung, breathing difficulties, severed abdomen, severe concussion, may need surgery." replied Sherlock. The words flew out of his mouth. "You knew that Emily was the Raven, didn´t you?"

Irene looked at Sherlock.

"I had a suspicion." admitted Irene.

A long silence followed.

"I know you didn´t come here to visit John." said Sherlock finally. Irene sighed and said: "What did you do with the flash drive?"

"I gave it to Mycroft." answered Sherlock. "But, again, that´s not why you´re here."

Irene slowly stood up.

"You know, I never thanked you for saving me all those years ago." she said. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, well. That´s what enemies are for." he said.

"When were we enemies?" asked Irene. When Sherlock didn´t answer, she walked towards the door.

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes." she said. She placed the hood over her head and stepped outside, leaving Sherlock alone with John. Sherlock had a feeling that this would be the last time he would ever encounter Irene Adler.

* * *

**Hi, **

**I would just like to point out that I do not have any experience in medicine whatsoever, I just do a little research. If there are any errors, I apologize. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Do you want to see Mrs. Hudson?" asked Molly. Sherlock jumped up from his sleep and saw Molly sitting on a chair beside him.

"How long have you been here?" Sherlock asked drowsily.

"Just for about ten minutes." replied Molly. "Sherlock, I think you should see Mrs. Hudson."

For a moment, Sherlock glanced towards John as he still lay in the hospital bed.

"He´ll be fine, Sherlock." Molly said reassuringly. "Go, I´ll stay here if you like. She´s in room 394."

Sherlock stood up and walked out of the room, the first time in 24 hours. He looked outside the window as he walked down the corridor. The sun was shining and outside, he saw a group of people walking around, all happy and foolish. Idiots.

At last, he came up to a closed door labelled 394. Carefully, he opened the door and stepped inside. Alone on a hospital bed, there lay Mrs. Hudson and watched telly. She turned her head swiftly as she heard the door being opened. She gasped when she saw none other than Sherlock Holmes standing in the doorway. She slowly stood up and walked cautiously towards him, as if she weren´t sure that he was real.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson." said Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson sighed deeply in relief as she pulled him close to her and hugged him tightly.

"You´re alive!" she said. She loosened her grip so that she could look directly into the tall man´s face. "Oh, my dear Sherlock. But how can it be?"

Sherlock shook his head slightly.

"That´s not important now." he said. "It´s John."

They sat down while Sherlock told her about John´s condition. Mrs. Hudson´s tears of joy turned to tears of sorrow.

"Oh, I feel so horrible. I haven´t even visited him yet." she said shamefully.

"It´s all right." said Sherlock.

"Where if he now?" asked Mrs. Hudson.

"I´ll show you." said Sherlock.

* * *

Several minutes later, Mrs. Hudson sat on a chair by John´s side and held his hand. She didn´t say anything, she just looked at him sleep. Sherlock stood up against the wall. The oxygen mask had been taken off John´s face but he looked just as fragile as before.

"He doesn´t deserve this. None of this." said Mrs. Hudson. Her voice was full of pain.

"You don´t know how much you´ve hurt him, Sherlock." she said and looked at Sherlock. Before he could answer, a sound was heard from John.

The first thing that John felt was pain, the same immense pain that he had felt the last time he was awake. It was so unbearable that he couldn´t breathe. He gasped for air but he felt as if his organs weren´t cooperating. He felt a few pairs of hands help him sit up. An oxygen mask was placed over his mouth and he heard faint voices saying: "It´s all right."

He felt nauseous and began to gag. A nurse quickly took off the oxygen mask and held a tray in front of him as he vomited in it.

After what felt like an eternity, John finally caught his breath and relaxed. The nurses removed the tray and helped him lie back down. A doctor entered the room and stood over him.

"John, are you all right?" he asked thoughtfully.

"What happened?" asked John in a weak and broken voice. A nurse brought a glass of water to his lips. He gulped down the water and let his head fall onto his pillow as the nurse placed the oxygen mask over his mouth.

"John, you were shot. Do you remember anything?" began the doctor. Disturbing memories of agonizing pain and terror ran through John´s mind. He nodded weakly.

"Well, you lost a lot of blood. If you had come in here a few minutes later, it would have been too late. You also suffered a severe concussion. Your left lung collapsed and your respiration has been very critical. However, we placed a chest tube between your ribs and we managed to stop the bleeding." explained the doctor. John looked down, trying to digest this information. He took a deep breath.

"So, it´s all right now?" he asked.

"Yes, as I said before, we managed to stop the bleeding and with the chest tube, you should be fine after about two to three weeks." said the doctor. "If there is anything you need, the nurses will come to assist you. I have to go, I´m sorry."

The doctor and the nurses left the room. At that moment, John first noticed Mrs. Hudson. Weakly, he reached out his hand. Mrs. Hudson took it and held it tightly.

"Oh, I was so afraid, John." she said. John´s eyes looked kindly at her but they suddenly caught sight of Sherlock standing up against the wall. Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock and then coughed awkwardly.

"I´ll go tell Molly that you´re awake, dear." she said and left the room.

Sherlock slowly walked towards the bed and sat down. John took off his oxygen mask and stared at Sherlock. He was there, alive and well, sitting on his bed. He felt a rush of happiness run through him, along with disbelief. It couldn´t be Sherlock. He saw him die. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, that rush of happiness turned to frustration and hurt. It was him. He was the reason that John was here. How could he have done this to him?

"Get out." he managed to say. He saw the hurt in Sherlock´s eyes.

"Get out." he repeated. Sherlock slowly stood up and left the room. As soon as Sherlock had closed the door, John buried his face in his hands. For three years, he had always been hoping for Sherlock to be alive. At that moment, he felt cheated and foolish, foolish for ever having called Sherlock Holmes his friend.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

After that, John didn´t want to see anyone. The only persons that he allowed to come into his room were nurses and his doctor. The doctor recommended that he would see a therapist but John was quick to refuse. John felt terribly lonely and miserable, but he didn´t trust anyone.

One day, a knock was heard on the door. Before John could answer, the door was opened and Molly walked into the room.

"No. Not you," pleaded John. Molly ignored him and sat down on a chair beside him. She tossed a newspaper onto his bed.

"You don´t have to read it now, but I want you to listen to me," said Molly and took a deep breath. "You were right all along, John. I knew that Sherlock was going to die and I helped him fake his suicide. And he asked me to take his phone before any of Moriarty´s men found it. I´m not going to tell you how we faked his death, not yet."

"People have tried to kill me because of that phone," said John bitterly. "Why didn´t you tell me about it?"

"He made me promise not to tell," answered Molly. John scoffed.

"John, I swear I didn´t know that there were people out there who were ready to kill you because of it."

When John didn´t reply, Molly stood up and walked towards the door. She knew that John wanted to be alone. Before she opened the door, she turned to him.

"He did it to save you, John." she said. John looked at her and slightly shook his head. "He didn´t save me," he said softly. Molly saw the pain in John´s eyes. She had never before realised what he had been through, but when she looked into his eyes, Molly saw that John Watson had seen too much evil in the world.

"Just… read the head article." she said and walked through the door. John took up the newspaper and read the front page.

_Holmes Alive – Suicide Mystery Solved!_

_The three-year-old mystery of the sudden suicide of internet phenomenon Sherlock Holmes has at last been solved. Mr. Holmes was seen during the Millennium Mills explosion, which occurred a week ago. Mr. Holmes then formally reappeared at a press conference in London last Thursday, where he claimed to have been framed for kidnapping in 2012 by criminal mastermind, James Moriarty. Detective Inspector Lestrade has also confirmed that newly found evidence has shown that Richard Brook, an actor who was once thought to have been hired by Mr. Holmes to play James Moriarty, had, in fact, been a fake identity made by Mr. Moriarty. "James Moriarty managed to fool us all, including the police." says Lestrade. "But we can now confirm that the rumours about Sherlock Holmes were false and that James Moriarty was, in fact, real." _

John held the newspaper and read the article again and again. After three years, it was finally over. Moriarty´s game was finally over.

* * *

After two agonizing weeks in the hospital, John finally stepped foot outside the hospital. It was now early July and the sun shone into John´s eyes, still a bit unused to natural light. He allowed Mrs. Hudson to help him stand up from his wheelchair as they thanked the doctor and the group of nurses. With a bit of difficulty, John walked over to the awaiting cab.

"Excuse me!" a voice was suddenly heard. John turned around and saw a woman standing behind him, holding out his mobile phone.

"You dropped this," said the woman and handed it to a surprised John.

"Oh, thank you…" said John, pausing in attempt to fish out her name.

"Mary. Mary Morstan." said the woman and shook his hand. John smiled at her. He noticed her beautiful, green eyes looking into his, her pink lips twitched in a kind smile.

"John Watson." replied John. He thanked her again and was beginning to turn around but then he froze in his steps when he saw Mrs. Hudson giving him a gesture to go on and talk to the woman. John sighed and swiftly turned around.

"Excuse me!" he shouted after Mary. She turned around and looked quizzically at him, with a small smile on her face. She was beautiful.

"Listen, I don´t suppose if you´d like to… I don´t know… have a cup of coffee sometime… or something," he said awkwardly. Mary Morstan´s smile broadened.

"I´d love to. I actually can´t do it right now, but how about next Saturday? Around 2 o´clock? I know a great place that´s here nearby," she said as she took out a piece of paper and a pen from her purse. She wrote down the name of the café along with her mobile number and handed it to John.

"All right, sound good. I´ll see you then," said John.

"OK. Goodbye," Mary said gleefully and waved as she kept on walking. John waved her back and turned around to face Mrs. Hudson´s teasing smile. John grinned back and they stepped into the taxi. John couldn´t help but feel as if the sun was shining a bit brighter as they were driven through London. John had been kept inside a hospital for so long that he opened the car window and allowed the summer breeze to enter the car.

At long last, the cab stopped at Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson helped John out of the car and paid the cabbie. John stood there for a few seconds and stared at the black door labelled 221B. All thoughts of Mary and the date or the beautiful weather disappeared and John felt nothing but worry, perhaps fear, of going inside and having to look Sherlock in the eye.

Reluctantly, John stepped into his house and hung his jacket on the coat hanger. Mrs. Hudson offered to help him up the stairs but he kindly refused. She smiled to him before she went into her own apartment.

John walked slowly up the stairs and opened the door to his apartment. By the window, there stood Sherlock and played his violin. He stopped playing when he heard the door opening. He turned around and looked at John, who stood still in the doorway. Sherlock put the violin down and walked towards him. He didn´t say anything but waited for John to have the first word.

For a long time, John didn´t say anything. He merely stood in the doorway and looked at Sherlock. Then, suddenly, he clenched his fist and punched Sherlock in the face. Sherlock stumbled and fell onto the floor by the force of John´s fist. He held over his bleeding nose and groaned.

"Three years," whispered John, trying to control his anger. He failed.

"Three years, Sherlock!" shouted John as he stood over Sherlock. "Do you have any idea of what you´ve done to me? I saw you jump! For three years, I´ve been picturing it over and over again in my head. I had to go to a psychiatrist who then ended up almost killing me! And then you just come back, after _three years_, and expect everything to turn back to normal?"

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped shouting. He looked down at Sherlock as he lay there on the floor and looked ashamed. After a while, Sherlock slowly stood up and looked into John´s teary eyes. John didn´t move for a while. At last, he exhaled deeply and broke down in front of Sherlock. Sherlock pulled John closer to him and put his arms around him as John buried his face into his friend´s suit and cried.

"I missed you too, John."

* * *

**And thus concludes A Game of Deception. I´d like to thank everyone who read the story and I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, special thanks to everyone who reviewed the story and brightened my days with your wonderful comments. **

**Last but not least, I want to thank Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for creating the characters we love and admire and Steve Moffat and Mark Gatiss for bringing them to life (except Emily, who is actually my own character :)) **


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